And Then the Limb Broke
by JoBethMegAmy. my homegirls
Summary: When Maura comforts Jane over yet another failed relationship with a man, Jane reaches a long-overdue realization which she can only hope Maura returns. Oneshot. ANGST WITHIN. If that's not your thing, please don't read.


**A/N**: I thought I'd take one more shot at angst, and to balance things out a bit, this one's for Jane instead of Maura. Sorry if it's insulting to add this or if you feel like I'm preaching to the choir, but given some of the reaction to my other angsty one-shot, **please remember: this _is _a one-shot. There will be no updates or continuation. It's angst. There's no happy Rizzles ending, and please don't ask for one. Reviews are appreciated, and while I appreciate the sentiment behind alerts, just know that it's fruitless. **The line stops here.  
Also, there is a nod to a scene from "Friends With Kids," but it doesn't share that movie's ending.

* * *

I got used to making two cups of coffee in the morning. Not because I had a very serious boyfriend who stayed over all the time, but because I had a very serious platonic girlfriend who wound up staying the night more often than not. Or I'd spend the night with her. Whether it was her place or mine, I always woke up first, so I always made the coffee. I even learned how to make her weird, fancy, unpronounceably-named brands. That's how good of a friend I am.

Maura looked surprised the first time I said I'd do anything for her. It was right after that horrific birthday party Ma threw for me when I'd just killed Hoyt. We put on our brave faces, we celebrated with everybody else. But when the party ended, Maura was the last one to leave. Just like always. I hugged her before she left, and she broke down crying in my arms.

"_I can't believe you did it."_

"_I had to."_

"_No, I know. I'm… I'm glad you did it_." She sounded scared for admitting it. _"He's gone now, like he should have been gone a long time ago. He can't hurt you anymore."_

"_He can't hurt __you__," _I said, pulling back. It was impossible not to feel a tug at your heartstrings when you see Maura Isles cry. It'd be like hitting a puppy with a rolled-up newspaper. She gave a pathetic sob and I brushed away her tears as best I could. _"Maura, I would do anything for you. Okay? Anything. I'm not sorry I did it, either." _

Her eyes searched my face in confusion before she hugged me again.

I found myself wondering later—much later—what exactly I had meant by that comment. I'd do anything for her safety, her happiness, sure. But maybe it was my way of trying to be honest with myself, too: of saying I'd do anything for her to be mine.

It took a while for me to realize I was in love with her. I didn't recognize those butterflies in my stomach for what they were at first; the most inane thoughts just kept popping into my head: _wow, Maura looks pretty today. Wow, I wish dresses suited me as well as they do her; mom would be over the moon. Wow, how does she get her hair to shine like that? It's so gorgeous. She's so gorgeous …she's so sweet. I can't believe she's letting my mom live with her. How lucky am I to have a best friend like her?_

Yup. I'm kind of an idiot.

Nothing really sank in until I found out Casey was back in Boston and ignoring me. When he'd come around the first time, I thought maybe he'd be interested in a relationship. He was a really nice guy, he liked me, and I liked him. He was a good friend, and a gentleman. You don't get many guys like that these days. He even wanted to use a leave of absence to come to our stupid high school reunion just so I wouldn't have to go alone! Stand-up soldier, stand-up friend. Definitely boyfriend material, right?

Based solely on our friendship alone, I was hurt that he didn't tell me about his injury right away. Nothing bothers me as much as someone playing the noble hero, and it took me a while to get over that. I tried to confront him, and he shut me down.

Who was waiting me for me when I got out? Maura, of course. I was crying like a kid, emotional over Casey's unfriendly treatment over me. I must have really looked like a sap, because when I asked Maura to do something crazy with me, she agreed.

Only she didn't just agree. She looped her arm through mine, pulled me a little closer than necessary. She started walking. I was still a little distracted by my crying, but not so much that it kept me from noticing any person who passed us on the street might have assumed we were a couple—because that's how I felt. This felt like my girlfriend cheering me up. It was a strange thought that came and went and frankly made me a little uncomfortable.

We got back to my apartment and instead of letting myself get drunk, I just wanted to pig out. It was sort of to test Maura's mettle: she was no stranger to the occasional hangover, but I did want to see how she'd react to cheese in a can. I'm sure she was horrified, but she hid it well. We turned on a stupid movie and sat on my couch, talking through the commercials (and much of the movie, actually) as we ate our way through microwaved Nachos, a package of Chips Ahoy, and marshmallow fluff.

Eventually I got quiet, and Maura noticed. She turned off the TV and tried to get me to talk, but I was tired and didn't feel like talking. She moved closer to me and pulled one leg onto her lap. My stomach lurched in protest like it seemed to these days whenever she touched me, but I wrote it off as all that junk food starting to take a toll.

"_Don't let Casey get to you_," she said seriously. "_He doesn't deserve you."_

It suddenly became extremely important to me that she go into more detail. Would she recognize someone fishing for compliments? _"C'mon, Maura. He's a war hero, helping out his fellow vets. How could there be anyone he doesn't deserve?"_

"_Don't talk like that!" _Now she sounded almost angry with me. _"Yes he's doing a good and necessary work, but that does not excuse the way he has treated you. You're a hero too, Jane, and if he can't see that, he's not only undeserving but just stupid—as is any man who throws away an opportunity to be with you. Don't sell yourself short, Jane Rizzoli. You deserve to be happy, you deserve someone who's going to love you as you are, because you are an amazing person. And I'm not just saying that because you're my best friend. I'm saying it because it is objectively true. You're a hard worker. You're loyal. You don't give up on people. You love them in spite of their imperfections, and you champion the rights of those who don't have the courage or the ability to protect themselves. You always want to do the right thing, and you largely succeed in that noble endeavor—and never at the cost of anyone else. You're smart. You're funny. You can take joke. You can be intimidating when you have to be and gentle when you have to be. You act tough, but you're sweet. You're sincere. You don't deserve to be lied to you or tossed aside. And if Casey can't see that?" _She shrugged, like it was so obvious. _"Then he's a fool who doesn't deserve you." _

Nobody had ever said things like that to me before. Nobody had ever looked into my eyes, touched my leg, and kept a straight face while saying _anything _like that before.

I don't cry easily, and if I ever do, it's only because I'm extremely sad or extremely scared. But I had started to tear up when I heard someone as selfless, intelligent, and close to me as Maura Isles saying such wonderful things about me. My family loves me, I know. My partners and my boss respect and like me, I know. I've dated and been kissed and had sex and all that, I know—but I was feeling something new that night on my couch with Maura. Something for the first time, and I didn't know how to place it right away.

Casey apologized and told me the truth about his war injuries, and it was only after we started dating again that I realized I didn't want to be with him. I wanted to be with Maura. It didn't take that long to figure out. He spent the night a couple times, and I realized I didn't want him to be there when I woke up. I wanted it to be Maura.

I wanted to fall asleep on Maura's shoulder when the movie went on too long and I got tired. I wanted her arm draped across me when we lay in bed. I wanted to wake up and find her cuddled into me, with my arm numb because she'd spent half the night sleeping on it. I wanted to make her coffee in the morning (Casey never drank it. He was more of an orange juice person).

It was more than that, though. It was every cheesy but honest desire I'd never actually felt in "pining" after a guy: I wanted to know what her mouth tasted like. I wanted an embrace to turn into more, for her legs to wrap around my waist and my arms to hold her up as I kissed her against a door or a wall or maybe in the rain. I wanted to feel her desperately unbuttoning my shirt and undoing my belt. I'd seen her abs in yoga classes, I'd seen her legs on our early morning runs, I'd seen her chest at Merch, and I got to see her face nearly every hour of every day—but that wasn't enough all of a sudden. I wanted to feel all that beneath my fingertips, beneath my lips. I wanted to make her quiver, to make her shake, to feel undone and then built back up. I wanted to hear her moan my name in the dark, in my bed, with her fingers curled into my hair while I kissed her neck (or someplace lower).

Everything. I wanted everything with her.

The funny thing is I didn't even have to really tell Casey about it. He just sort of seemed to guess that my heart wasn't in our relationship anymore. He may not have known it was because of Maura, but he probably did—at any rate, he just knew we weren't working out. Why continue a relationship neither of us were interested in?

He'd been getting more mobile lately. He still needed a sort of cane to help him walk, and while it was better than it'd been at first, it didn't make it any less sad to see him walk away alone. We had just ended a pretty standard date, dinner and a movie, and when I'd asked if he wanted to come in for a beer, Casey said no. We stood outside my apartment door, just looking at each other.

In high school, vocab tests used to always trip me up. But sometimes, the most random words would stick out to me, maybe because they sounded funny or I didn't comprehend them, and even today if I hear one or think about one, in my head I remember it only as a vocab word. "Tacit" popped up almost every year. Basically it means understanding something that hasn't been expressed. I never got it. I mean I understood the concept, but growing up with my extremely vocal family, I could not grasp the feasibility of it. How can anyone understand something without words being exchanged?

That night I finally got it. When Casey and I broke up, it was through tacit communication. He held my hand and looked me in the eye. Even though we'd had a fun night, as we often did, there was a sadness in his face. A solemnness. I knew I was reflecting it. He kissed my forehead and said goodbye, and I knew that goodbye didn't just mean "see you later." We'd stay friends, but nothing more.

I'd put no real effort into our relationship. And entering my little apartment entirely alone, I could no longer deny the reason why: I wanted Maura to be with me.

Did I mention this happened three days before my birthday?

It was time for me to turn things around. I all but slapped myself upside the head: I'm not a coward. If I want something, I go for it. I follow through on things down the line. I hunt down murderers for a living. Why should I be scared of telling Maura how I felt? Emboldened by her speech on my behalf in my apartment the night we still assumed Casey was a jerk, I decided to say something.

For my birthday, I had surprised everyone by saying I wanted to get dinner at this really chic Thai restaurant Maura had introduced me to. You had to dress up and the flavors were really strong, but I wound up liking it a lot more than I'd expected to. Ma, my brothers, Korsak, Frost, Casey, and of course Maura were all supposed to come. After the break-up, I quietly explained to everybody that I didn't really feel like going out to celebrate anymore—that is, I explained it to everybody but Maura. She knew Casey and I had split, but agreed with my mother that at least being with _some_one for my birthday would be a good distraction for me.

She thought everyone else would still be there.

I said I'd meet her at the restaurant, and I arrived in style: a red dress felt festive and bright; it made me look more bold than I felt. I'd worn it once or twice in front of Maura, and she smiled a little whenever she saw me in it and told me she liked it. I took this to mean she liked it on me. For the occasion I even decided to put on some heels instead of the flats I usually slipped on. My hair was washed thoroughly for once, and I'd even taken a bit more trouble than usual with make-up.

When I reached the restaurant, it was to see Maura already there (of course), and looking absolutely incredible (of course). I'd describe her outfit and her beautiful hair and her perfect face, but no words would do any of it justice. They really wouldn't. She was holding a small gift bag and gave me a hug when I walked in.

"Reservation for Rizzoli," I said to the host, and he led us back into the restaurant.

"Shouldn't we wait for the others?" Maura asked, glancing over her shoulder as if she expected to see Tommy or Frankie walking in behind me.

I waited until we had sat down and the host had left us with our menus before I said, "Actually, Maura, this is it."

She had set her gift bag next to her on the booth and already put her napkin on her lap. "What?"

I smiled at the adorable look of confusion on her face. God, I wanted to kiss her! "It's just you and me."

"Oh, I…" Uh-oh. She looked a little uncomfortable. "Okay. That's what you wanted?"

"Yes," I whispered. "It's what I want."

Her voice was quiet, but she smiled back at me. "All right."

We ordered drinks, and when they eventually reached us, I told our waiter to hold off on coming back for our food orders. I had to get this out early: if I didn't, I'd be suffering all through dinner. I'd learned to never let stuff stew anymore, because if I did, I'd chicken out. I wouldn't say anything. It'd be too easy just sitting and laughing through dinner without uttering a word of how I really felt. No more torturing myself. I had to have it out.

"I'm glad you came out at all tonight," Maura said, taking a sip of her drink. "I was worried you'd want to shut yourself in after Casey."

"Maura, it was a mutual decision," I said calmly. "And I'm not sorry we broke up."

"You're not?"

"No."

"W…why?"

I think she'd been afraid of being rude or pushy, but Maura didn't really have a filter when it came to stuff like that. She was honestly baffled, and I guess I can understand. "I'm not in love with him," I said with a shrug. "I… I guess I _thought _I was, but it just never really felt …I dunno, real. Do you know what I mean?"

My attitude seemed to ease her up a bit. "Yes," she said with a short laugh. "I do."

"But…" Oh God, no. Tears again.

Now she was understandably concerned. "Jane, what is it?"

Her hand went across the table to clasp one of mine, making me shiver and let out a short sob. "It's not Casey I'm sad about," I insisted, using my free hand to wipe away some tears. "It's just the whole relationship thing. Ma really wants me to get married, you know?"

"I know. I can tell there's a sort of pressure there."

"Sort of?" I laughed ruefully. "You have no idea, Maura. It's not just about pleasing Ma, even though it'd be nice to shut her up about it. I mean, I hate sometimes feeling like I'm gonna be alone forever—"

"Jane, you're not."

I plowed on like I hadn't heard her, even though her words made my heart soar: "—I think she's taking the break-up with Casey worse than I am!"

"Well, she liked him," Maura reasoned.

"But she loves you," I heard myself saying. The words had just come to me, out of nowhere. Maura's hand suddenly felt like a dead weight in mine, and I gripped it tighter out of desperation never to let her go. She did not look happy or angry, upset or emotional, and that worried me. She was just staring at me, like I'd dropped a bomb. To be fair, I guess I had, and I was about to drop another without any being able to control myself: "And I do too, Maura, I do."

I'm sure my tone and my expression made it impossible to misinterpret how I meant this. "Jane…"

"Maura, I'm so in love with you I don't know what to do," I blurted out, my words sounding rushed. I reached my other hand, wet with wasted tears, to clasp hers more firmly.

Maybe Maura wasn't as naïve as I'd thought. Maybe she had sensed how I felt and had just been praying she'd been wrong to spare my feelings. My point is that instead of being elated by my words, she looked heartbroken. She brought her other hand to mine as well, but not for the sake of romance or "_I love you, too,_" which I had been counting on, praying for.

"Jane, you're my best friend," she said. "My _best _friend." Her chin was quivering, but not because I'd swept her off her feet—because I'd swept the rug out from under her, and she wasn't ready to deal with this yet. "I would do anything for you, but—"

"Then try," I begged, my voice thick with emotion. I never begged for anything. I hated sounding desperate, but I'd do whatever it took if there was even the smallest chance. But I saw that chance growing smaller and smaller in Maura's eyes. "Please, Maura, _try_—"

"Jane, I can't," she insisted, tears welling up in her eyes. These were not tears of denial, of Catholic guilt. I could have recognized and found hope in those. These tears were there because of her inability to spare me. "I don't …I don't feel that way about you!"

"But everything you said!" I protested. It sounded obnoxious to bring it up, but I had to. I had never felt like I was scrabbling for something so much in my entire life. "That night when Casey turned me out, and we were in my apartment, you were saying all those things about me, why I deserved to be with someone—"

"And Jane, they were all true!" Maura said. "They were _all _true, and they still are! But you deserve to be with someone who is in love with you, and I—I love you, but I'm not… I'm not attracted to you in that way. You're my best friend, you're closer to me than a sister."

The only feeling I could liken this to is a bullet going through the body. Even when you reached a point where you saw it coming, it hurt like hell and the pain didn't stop, and no method you tried would kill it. "Maura, are you saying that because you're afraid of what it would do to our friendship? Are you scared?" It was all I could do to keep from physically cringing at the transparent desperation in my voice.

"No, Jane, that isn't it. I want to be here for you, and you are so, _so _important to me, but I can't say I'm in love with you when I'm not."

That's when it registered. Maura Isles couldn't lie. The only thing she was afraid of doing was breaking my heart, but there was nothing she could've done to avoid it.

It all happened so fast, but there was no point prolonging the inevitable. Had it been anyone else, I maybe would have pushed more, I would have fought harder. But I had to give up. Maura meant what she said. There was no ulterior motive, no hidden concerns. There was just Maura, probably thinking she had led me on, and profoundly sorry that she didn't return my feelings.

She left shortly afterwards at my request. I know she hated to leave me alone after all this, but there was no way I could sit through dinner now. It was going to be hard for another birthday top the misery on this one. As I drove away myself, it dawned on me that unless our waiter had seen both of us leave, he'd probably be surprised to see our table suddenly abandoned except for the gift bag Maura had left behind. Sometimes I still wonder what was in it.

For a while I seriously considered leaving Boston, and sometimes I still do. I thought that was something only really dramatic women do in really dumb movies, leaving your home, your town, your family, and your life because of a relationship that didn't pan out the way you expected. But now I take back every cynical remark I ever made about characters like that.

I've broken limbs before. On my birthday, I'd gone out on one and it broke before I even had a real firm footing on it. This was a limb I didn't think was ever going to heal itself.

Especially at first, it hurt like hell to go to work and have nothing be the same. Maura knew how I felt now, and she tip-toed around me. I was too depressed to be embarrassed. Even when our working relationship felt a bit more like it used to, I started sending Riley down to see her now and then. I found myself craving time to be alone with Maura but dreading it at the same time, so I didn't cave into the opportunities for it whenever I could—like I used to.

We'll hang out after work sometimes. We haven't reached the point yet where she feels comfortable telling me about her dates, prospective boyfriends. The wound is still too fresh. She's tried bringing it up a couple of times, but I shut her down. I can't take it, I can't do it. It's still too weird being at work and trying to pretend to everyone else that things are perfectly fine and normal between us. It's still unnerving not knowing where to go from here, how to move past it.

When will I be able to look at her without feeling weak at the knees? When will I be able to nod at and approve of a man who takes her out, instead of feeling a raging pit of jealousy in my gut? When will I be able to feel comfortable inviting her to spend the night when she stays too late again?

Sometimes it's the small things, stuff I never thought I'd miss. It's like she's become more conscious of her actions and her words around me. Fewer little smiles, more hesitancy to exchange looks after Frankie's made a dumb joke or Frost averts his gaze in the morgue. She cuts off her google talk, like she's afraid of keeping me too long.

And it's stupid, but sometimes I still make coffee for two.


End file.
